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We are writing this column from the men's room of a restaurant on Cocos Island. Let us explain why.

Several days ago, the Pacific Daily News sports staff was exploring new locations to sponsor the Progs Corner. Joining us were all of the PDN Pigskin Prognosticators except the Masked Progger. Progs Corner moderator Duane George and PDN Production Director Bill Windham were there as well.

We were sampling some food while Windham and Drew Apatang gushed over Denver Broncos' quarterback Tim Tebow.

Without invitation, another restaurant patron joined in the conversation. He was a white guy -- no offense intended -- but white in a bad way: The guy looked like a corpse.

Anyway, he said he was from Florida. After he found out half of us worked for the newspaper, he said he had a major story for us: He had stolen a secret formula from an experiment gone wrong.

So, we asked, what does the formula do and how did he end up on Guam?

"Isn't Guam where people go when they want to hide out? And this stuff," he replied, holding up a vial of clear liquid, "lets the dead walk the Earth."

At that point, the sports staff excused ourselves and we all went to the men's room together. Sure, it was unmanly, but the white guy smelled even worse than he looked, and the beef tinaktak we ate for lunch was doing a number on our bowels. When we returned, the white guy was gone and a waitress was cleaning up broken glass on our table.

What happened?

"Oh," Linda Salas said, "Duane made fun of that guy, so he threw that vial on the table and it broke. Leche, Duane, you're bad."

"Hey," Duane said, "that's what he gets for feeding us that bull. There's no such thing as zombies."

"Hey, guys," Mark Pieper said. "If there is no such thing as zombies, what are those things outside?"

To our horror and amazement, dozens of what appeared to be zombies were shuffling around outside the restaurant. There was much confusion for a moment, and when things calmed down, all of the restaurant's employees and patrons had left the building. Then we noticed Bill was gone, too. We haven't seen him since.

One by one, the Progs woke up. We spoke to them, but none of them replied; instead, they began to look at us with hungry eyes.

"You've seen the movies, you've seen the TV show," Duane said. "It's time to kill me some zombies. Who's with me!"

With that, Duane picked up a table and jumped into the fray.

"For Azeroth!" he shouted, slamming the table on top of Vince Espinal's head. One down, six to go.

At that point, Mark reached out for us, but he tore his hamstring and fell, no longer a threat.

"Who wants some?" Duane screamed. Then he swung the table through the air and beheaded Bryan Flores. Three down, four to go.

Linda made her way toward Duane. He raised the table to smash her head, but stopped.

"I can't do it," Duane said. "Not Linda, not after the coconut trophy."

Then she bit him. Dennis Cruz, Drew and Brant joined in. At that point, the sports staff did the unmanly thing and locked ourselves in the men's room.

After they finished feasting on Duane, the four remaining Prog zombies began to bang on the door to the men's room. You would think they'd be full. Anyway, eventually the lock gave way and all of them entered except Linda because, you know, it's the men's room. And then they ate us.